


Ten to the Third (Ichigo and the Thousand Paper Cranes)

by Kasuchi



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-04
Updated: 2010-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasuchi/pseuds/Kasuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Ichigo's first paper crane was a lopsided mess.</i> Ten-year-old Ichigo folds a thousand paper cranes in order to wish his mother back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten to the Third (Ichigo and the Thousand Paper Cranes)

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://himawari.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://himawari.livejournal.com/)**himawari** , with love.

**unfold**

When Ichigo was nine, his mother died, and he blamed himself.

For him, his world ended.

**mountain fold**

Ichigo searched for his mother at the riverbank for exactly one hundred days. He was glad he could see spirits; it meant that if his mother was still here, he would be able to see her one last time. It was selfish, he knew, but at nine Ichigo was not particularly concerned with the concept of selflessness. After all, his mother - the center of their family, the shining light in his life - _died_. Ichigo felt he was entitled to a little selfishness.

For one hundred days, he paced the banks of the waterway, searching. His father had found him the afternoon after the funeral, hand clutched tightly around the handle of an umbrella, both of them still dressed in funeral black. Ichigo had simply stood there while the rain poured all around them, watching the dark water churn past. He had heard his father clear his throat, felt him place a hand on Ichigo's shoulder, and turn them both away from the water.

After a month, Ichigo would just sit at the exact spot - handily marked by police tape, much to his morbid satisfaction - waiting. He would do homework while he waited, pages and pages of introductory algebra blurring into his Japanese literature reader as the shadows got longer and long each hour after school. Some afternoons, he would sit down after school and just watch the water flow past. Sometimes ducks would be swimming in the slow-moving current, other days he would see turtles and fish dart past. Most days the water was clear and the bank was empty save for him. Most of the neighborhood avoided the spot.

Every now and again, he saw Tatsuki watching him from across the water with large, concerned eyes. He ignored her.

On the ninety-seventh day, he heard someone sit beside him. He didn't breathe for a long moment. Then, the other person spoke.

"Ichigo," he said, and Ichigo let out a breath. It was just his father.

Ichigo said nothing, stared resolutely at the bright, shallow water.

"Ichigo, your karate master has been asking for you. He called to ask me why you haven't been coming into the dojo."

Ichigo said nothing.

Isshin sighed. "I will tell him you need more time." He rose and walked away.

Three days later, on the hundredth day since It Happened, Ichigo was reading for Japanese Literature while he waited. It was the story of Sasaki Sadako.

It was the last day Ichigo sat on the banks by the water.

**valley fold**

Ichigo's first paper crane was a lopsided mess.

Of course, Ichigo was seven when he folded a paper crane for the first time. A young neighbor, Hattori Kazuha-neechan, taught him the folds and the fold order. With steady hands and patience, she had shown him how to make perfect, balanced paper cranes.

When Ichigo had brandished his first paper crane, his mother had gasped with pleasure and smiled broadly at him. She had strung it on a thread and it had dangled from the weight of the wind chime outside. On windy days it would spin and spin and spin until finally one day it fell apart.

Ichigo's first paper crane in two years was still a lopsided mess. The wings had too many creases and the tail was crooked and the body wasn't quite the right shape, all things considered. But it was the first.

Only nine hundred ninety-nine to go.

Ichigo brought colorful squares of paper to class and would fold while the teachers shifted from room to room. Most of the students in class ignored him. He had already been disliked for his strange colored hair. Now he was the Boy With the Dead Mom, and no one wanted to talk to him.

Tatsuki tried to make conversation, tried so hard to get him to talk. He ignored her still and folded pages carefully, lining up the edges one after another to get perfect, straight lines.

The next one, he told himself. The next one will be perfect.

Fifteen cranes were folded that day. Another ten after dinner.

Ichigo felt Isshin watching him fold the colored squares of paper over and over. He knew his father wanted to ask, was waiting for him to start the conversation. Ichigo remained silent. The only sound he made was the _whoosh_ of the paper turning over.

Yuzu and Karin watched him with wide, awestruck eyes as he turned square after square into ever-improving paper cranes. When Isshin had gone into the kitchen, Ichigo reached out and hugged each sister in turn, tucking each one's head under his chin for just a moment.

It was small comfort, even with the rainbow of color on the low table in the living room.

**inside reverse fold**

Being ten meant that Ichigo was prone to not finishing projects he started.

Three hundred paper cranes and twenty-five days into his project, Ichigo began to resent the cranes. There was no magic in the square sheets of paper, just sharp edges and starch. Ichigo had the papercuts to quantify his resentment, but it was more than that.

Isshin had strung up the cranes in forty-bird strands, the colors arranged in a repeating pattern. Eight strands hung in his room, tacked up into the frame of the shoji temporarily, waiting for their other thirteen brothers to tie together. They taunted him, their razor wings and sightless faces judging him.

Ichigo hadn't been sleeping well of late.

His folding had improved greatly, each successive crane near-perfect. He was oddly proud of each bird after he had folded it, a little heartened by the perfect angles of the wings and the sure straightness of the tail. But lately the magic had faded, and Ichigo folded cranes mechanically. It had turned into a chore, and it drained the vigor from him to fold the squares silently in front of the television.

Yuzu and Karin watched his movements with fascination still, despite that he was a month into his project. Each time he set a crane onto the table, wings down and tail straight and base solid and sturdy, they cheered and clapped excitedly, enthralled by the transformation of a square of paper into something seemingly exquisite.

His father offered words of encouragement, warm words tinged with the desperation of a worried parent. Ichigo was talking again, just short sentences and simple phrases, but his father had claimed it a victory of a sorts and had hugged his son forcefully (perhaps, even, too tightly) and cried a near-literal river of joyful tears.

Ichigo had simply asked if his father would string up the cranes for him. To be fair, it had been his longest sentence in four months.

**flip**

"This is important to you, isn't it?"

Ichigo met Tatsuki's eyes for a long moment before looking back at his squares of brightly colored paper. Next time, he would buy dark colors.

He nodded in response, carefully lining up edges. "Aa," he replied quietly.

Tatsuki was silent for a long moment. Ichigo glanced at her after a few folds, curious to see if she was still there. She was, clearly debating saying something more.

He had set the finished crane on his desk when she finally spoke. "Teach me."

"What?"

"Teach me how to fold cranes," she repeated patiently. "I want to learn origami."

"Go get a book," he mumbled, folding the crane back up for storage and putting away the squares. He could see their history _sensei_ headed down the hall.

"I'd rather learn from you," she said decisively. She pivoted on her heel and walked back to the front of the room, to her desk and sat down in it, deliberately avoiding his gaze.

 _Girls_ , Ichigo thought, and shook his head.

**outside reverse fold**

At the six-month mark of his mother's death, Ichigo asked to go to her grave.

His father had watched him seriously for a moment, searching his face for a deeper question. Ichigo stared back impassively, face a blank mask. It was eerie for a ten-year-old kid who, up until six months ago, would smile so radiantly it would put the sun to shame. Ichigo, later in life, would realize that his father didn't know _how_ to help his son, not really, and Ichigo would pity their whole damn situation.

His father stood a ways off from the grave, trying to keep Karin and Yuzu entertained while Ichigo spoke - finally spoke - to the headstone that bore his mother's name.

"Kaa-chan," he murmured, small fingers tracing the carvings in the stone. Four kanji - Kurosaki Masaki. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He bit his bottom lip and looked at his hands, at the skin marred by paper cuts. "But I'm going to make it better." He swallowed and his little fists balled at his sides.

"I promise."

**thunderbolt fold**

It snowed that Christmas, the first one without their mother. Yuzu and his father were cooking in the kitchen, Karin refused to budge from the _kotatsu_ , and Ichigo decorated their small tree. He pulled out ornaments from the neatly packed box. Karin would occasionally look away from the variety show to inform him that he had put something in the wrong place. He would simply stick his tongue out at her and then move the ornament to the "right" location.

In the far corner was a pile of presents, brightly paper sparkling in the low light. Ichigo continued to hang ornaments carefully, humming along with the carols the idols and celebrities were singing on the variety show. Karin shot him a dirty look, and frankly informed him that his singing voice was terrible. Ichigo ignored her and hummed louder.

A loud clatter emanated from the kitchen, accompanied by a high-pitched noise that could only come from their father.

"Daddy!" Yuzu's voice was equal parts shocked and chiding.

He popped up, sooty and covered in dough and one eyebrow slightly singed, flashing a grin and a thumbs up. "DADDY'S OK~!"

Karin and Ichigo shared a look and a sigh.

Isshin shook off the shock of "exploding cake," as he called it (Yuzu called it too much baking powder) and struck a pose. "BEAUTIFUL AND INDESTRUCTIBLE!"

"Go change, goat-chin," Karin muttered, not looking away from the TV.

Isshin's expression suddenly shifted, a river of tears shining on his face. "Karin is so MEAN!" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Although "goat-chin" is kind of catchy. Much better than the 'rooster-head' nickname that Sano-kun got stuck with..."

"Who's Sano-kun?" Yuzu asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

"No one!" He replied too quickly. Ichigo shot him a suspicious look, but his father ignored it. "How did the cookie dough turn out, Yuzu?"

"Try some." She held out a spoonful of cookie dough. Isshin knelt down and took a bite.

"Mmm." He ruffled her hair. "Perfect!"

Later that night, when all three of them were tucked into bed, full from warm cookies and snuggling under the kotatsu, Isshin padded quietly around their home. He checked to make sure everything was locked, then gradually turned off the lights. He knelt to turn off the lights for the tree, but he reconsidered and left them on.

He picked up the small wrapped boxes from the low table and made his way quietly up to the girls' rooms. Gently, he pushed open the door to their room, smiling when he saw them fast asleep. Silently, he placed gifts by their pillows - small boxes with little surprises for both of them. For Yuzu, he got an apron with little chicks on the front, _PIYO PIYO_ written across the top edge. Karin received a jersey that she'd been eyeing for the last couple of months.

Ichigo was also snoring lightly, though experience told he was a light sleeper. Isshin sighed internally and made his way across the room on tiptoe, careful to avoid the creaky boards. Gingerly, he placed the gift beside the pillow before practically flash-stepping out of the room.

The next morning, Ichigo opened the small, poorly-wrapped gift he found by his head. Five hundred sheets of origami paper boxed and tied neatly with ribbon were inside, enough to complete his project.

**rotate**

Ichigo stared listlessly into space, his eyes glazed over and unfocused on the blank wall above the turned-off television set.

"Ichigo?" Isshin's voice was soft, worry coloring the background of it.

He blinked and the faraway look vanished. "Oh, hey dad." He shifted uncomfortably under his father's gaze. "Is something wrong?"

His father shook his head. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

Ichigo looked down at the desktop. A handful of half-folded squares of paper littered the tabletop. Underneath was the neat packet of his math homework, problems also half-done. "Oh."

"Yeah." Isshin knelt at the table in a fluid motion and folded his arms on the surface, careful to not bend or crush any papers. "You wanna tell me what's on your mind?"

Ichigo was silent for a long time. Finally, he said softly, "I'm starting to forget."

"Forget what?"

"Her. Mom. What she was like." He turned large, glassy eyes to his father. "I don't remember the sound of her voice anymore," he choked out.

"Oh, Ichigo," Isshin said, and pulled his boy in for a very long hug. All the while, he rubbed the boy's back and murmured comforting words over and over.

**pull**

"Have you decided yet?"

Ichigo blinked at Tatsuki. "Decided what?"

"Your wish."

"Maybe," he hedged. "But if I told you, it wouldn't come true."

Tatsuki mulled this over. "That's only true for shooting stars."

Ichigo shook his head. "Nuh-uh. It's true for any wishes."

"Whatever. You know what I'd wish for?"

"To be the greatest martial artist in Japan?"

"No, to be the greatest martial artist _ever_."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Because I can kick your butt twice over before you hit the mat?"

"You wish."

"Don't have to." She stuck her tongue out at him and laughed.

They stood in companionable silence for a few moments, her eyes watching his hands make crease after crease until the wings folded down and the crane stood on its own.

"Don't forget to write it down," she said. "Your wish. You need to write it inside the last crane. Don't forget it."

He nodded. "I won't."

**repeat action**

The paper lay in front of him, white and square and wholly innocuous.

Ichigo glanced up at the calendar.

His eyes flicked back down to the paper, his hands palm-down on the tabletop on either side of the sheet. Above the page was a pen.

Number one thousand. The last crane.

It was time.

With slightly shaking hands, he picked up the pen. (It was yellow and blue and had Doraemon all over it.) He uncapped it and pressed the tip to the page.

_I wish for my mother to_

He paused, ready to write the next character in the sentence. But. He thought of Sadako and how she had died with three hundred and some cranes to go, thought of all of her classmates helping her finish. He thought of the twenty-four other strings of cranes fluttering in the window, their multicolored bodies ebbing and flowing with the breeze, as if they flew.

He glanced at his mother's poster on the wall. He looked at it for a long time before finishing the sentence.

_I wish for my mother to watch over us always._

Then, very carefully, he folded.

**open**

He watched the thousand cranes flutter slightly in the summer breeze, the beads at the bottom of the strands clacking together softly. Downstairs, Karin watched TV while his father and Yuzu made dinner.

For him, his world would begin tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. For [](http://himawari.livejournal.com/profile)[**himawari**](http://himawari.livejournal.com/). I know your favorite color's blue, but...this seemed more fitting, somehow.
> 
> 2\. The story of [Sadako and her thousand paper cranes](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sadako_Sasaki) is quite a touching one, and one that's stuck with me for many years. More interesting is the [cultural significance of paper cranes in Japan](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thousand_origami_cranes), especially with respect to how these are displayed.


End file.
